Two Minds, One Body
by Ilikebooks
Summary: basiclly a man who has two spirits in his one body. um, my second ever story, based in the Eragon world but it isnt using the characters from the inheritence trilogy. dont like, dont read.
1. Chapter 1

Right, this is my first one shot so please no flames. Advice, ideas and tips really really welcome. OK let's get on with it.

Disclaimer: Eragon isn't mine! But Dalanore is.

**Two Minds, One Body**

**(Chapter 1)**

Who was he? Was he a she? Was he even human? Nobody knew apart from me, and nobody apart from an old storyteller who is now dead.

Buried in a diamond grave.

Who was this man who wore a black cloth cloak, and boar hide boots?

Well I knew.

And I shall tell you of his story.

Or part of it anyway.

He was blessed, or cursed if one thought about it, with a great power. He was gifted in the arcane, in the spiritualistic and in the ability to speak to others with his mind.

But the blessing, or curse, was the gift of another mind. A mind that shared his body, his flesh and bone, but thought and felt for itself.

Though his body was human, it was shared by the minds of a man, and a dragon.

This dragon was old, older than all sentient beings of Alagaësia itself.

Its shining emerald body died a thousand, thousand years ago.

Its spirit wasn't to die though, for it was the first to be created. It was knowledge and intellect incarnated. It couldn't die, not wouldn't, couldn't. It was to pass itself from sentient being to sentient being.

And now it shared the body of Dalanore. For Dalanore was a normal man like you or me before the dragon came. He was of a line of humans that had borne the dragon for seven hundred years.

He was just the next in the line of bearers.

Dalanore was twenty five years old. Living alone, alone as he could be for he had the dragon spirit for company, in Dras-Leona. His house was modestly decorated and middle sized. It was wooden, two stories high and leaned over the street. There were five rooms, the study, the bedroom, the entrance hall, the kitchen and the workshop/storeroom. The garden was a small, twenty paces by twenty paces, square of dirt, piles of hay and weeds, trampled by Orfûna ('honest hoof' in the ancient language), Dalanore's mare. Orfûna was a chestnut coloured steed that bore Dalanore from place to place.

He stood in the garden, humming a soft tune as he expertly brushed Orfûna, making her colour gleam. Caring for Orfûna was one of Dalanore's favourite things, it was simple enough for him to concentrate on other matters and it made the mare clean, full and happy. It also made him happy too.

But enough about the horse.

Dalanore was in Dras-Leona for one reason, to find a successor. A human capable of magic but not under the hold of Galbatorix, preferably a person who didn't know of their abilities. Dras-Leona was ideal because of the mass of people who passed through every year. Every time Dalanore sensed another magic user he would scurry to the scene and observe the mage. So far all of them were under the kings sway, apart from one, but he was with the storyteller, and they were being pursued by most of Dras-Leona's guards.

So he bided his time, honed his skills, Orfûna got fat and lazy from not going any where, etc.

Then came the day.

He was asleep when he first sensed her. His conscious absently left his body in the care of the dragon spirit, and floated off to wander the streets at night, safe from everything and invisible to the other mortals. His spirit wandering around and aimlessly, in its sleeping state, floated into the slave quarters. The tightly packed bodies of those with no future lay there murmuring in their fitful sleep. His spirit stopped, hovering over the body of a young woman, barely sixteen years old. It stayed there, plastering her face into Dalanore's subconscious.

He woke with a start. The face lingered in his mind, and then faded from memory.

It was around pre-dawn.

_Welcome back sleepy head, I believe its time you got out of bed._

_I am, I am,_ thought Dalanore, and then, _where did I go?_

_Away away, out of town. And please don't give me that questioning frown._

_Why must you speak in rhymes spirit?_

_Because I like to, because I want to. _

He sighed, "Never mind. We're going to the trade district. I have that feeling again."

_Yes of course, and travel by horse._

"I will…"


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Eragon isn't mine!

**Two Minds, One Body**

**(Chapter 2) **

A thought flowed through her brain, like a whisper on the wind.

_Why me?_ It said, _oh by the lord's grace why me? _

It came from a stout, ginger haired man leaning on a wooden pillar, six or seven paces away.

His clothes, like the others crammed into the store house, were filthy, broken and hanging in tatters off his body. His skin was burnt, by sun and flame, and criss-crossed with white lines, scars of old torture or resent beatings. They were all destined for slavery now, though they had broken no laws. They were ambushed in there village, Cithrí in Surda, while sleeping soundly in there beds. A quarter of the village was taken by the slavers, and only half survived the harsh journey north to Dras-Leona. All of them were whipped, starved and morally broken, most females abused in absurd ways.

In this bunch of doomed and pitiful people lay a young woman, or girl, of sixteen. Her mind was different from others, able to listen to the thoughts of any living thing. Apart from plant and insects.

Unknown to her, she could have been the most powerful magician in Surda. But she knew not of her powers at all, then.

Her stomach groaned loudly, begging for food that wasn't given to them since mid day, yesterday.

They were all hungry.

They were all bound in iron, shackled to a person or sturdy pillar.

a day passes

The caw of a crow rung in Dalanore's head, the crow in question eyeing the dirty lane for free pickings. Orfûna snorted, and kept on ploughing through the sea of people and stalls. The lane was alive with the loud cry of traders calling out there best bargains and the general hubbub of a crowd during market day. Three street urchins fought over a scrap of mouldy bread, while a fourth stole it during the commotion.

Dalanore followed his sense until he walked into a richer part of town.

He grunted, this person was probably some rich person who came to Dras-Leona for the extensive amount of merchandise. And rich in this city meant trained, and trained meant Galbatorix's work.

A grimace swept across his face.

_Try to behave, you know it could be a slave._

_Oh yeah… dam, slaves mean money._

_Let us see who it is first. Before we quench these slaver's thirst._

_Why should we give them a drink?_

_I meant money, you dummy._

_Oh…hay, don't insult me._

Although he got no response a pleased emotion wafted over him from the spirit. Growling he resumed his search. Unfortunately he did end up in the slave market. Orfûna was getting too noticeable in this crowd of lords and ladies, so he dismounted and tied him up to a tether.

"Stay here." He said, and then repeated the message to Orfûna in her mind with the ancient language.

She snorted in response and cast her eyes to the stage were the slaves were being auctioned off like objects.

Pleased, Dalanore walked off down a side street to a warehouse. The person was near, that was clear. A door in the side was ajar and the awful smell of sweat, blood and excrement streamed out of the gap.

Coughing he stepped inside, then left immediately to throw up on the pavement.

What greeted his eyes in the warehouse was a hundred plus bodies of slaves, shackled together, and packed in like sardines. The smell was overwhelming, drifting into most senses. A repulsive taste on his tongue, a clouding of his eyes, and a stomach churning smell. His palms went sweaty, but he forced himself to enter again, a thick woollen sleeve covering his nose and mouth. Eyes watering he watched the slaves intently, looking for his magician. All were nearly indistinguishable from the other. Black and brown rags covered them so they were slightly modest but grime and brown stuff covered any exposed skin.

Stymied Dalanore cast out his mind to find him or her. The emotions from the slavers nearly incapacitated him, for so strong was there despair and self pity, but not one shied away from his presence. One however seemed to observe Dalanore's probe mentally. This person was curled up, a good fifteen or so paces from where he stood. She looked up, hazel eyes looking hopefully to the source.

_Who are you? _Asked Dalanore

_Help me, please._

_Who are you? _He insisted.

_I am of no importance, but please help me. You do not know what we have been through. Help me, help us._

_I am here for you, not the others .I know what you have been through though. Can you escape?_

_No. _she said/thought, raising her mucky shackles.

_I will buy you then._

_What, no, no I wish to be free. Please help me._

_I cannot._

_Why?_

_You are chained and bound and four guards are patrolling this area, taking you will kill us both. Buying you is your chance of freedom. I know what you are capable of, I will not let your talents be smothered by a slaves life. Do not fear child._

_What do you want of me!_

_You will know soon, but not now. When are you going to be sold?  
I don't know. Buy me if you wish, but I have no useful talents._ She sighed and sank below her rags.

"You have no idea." Said Dalanore, aloud. Other slaves looked up and moaned and begged for freedom. With a heavy heart Dalanore turned his back on them and left.

Running he sped into the market and spotting Orfûna leaped up and onto the horse's back.

"Giddy up." He said.

Orfûna trotted off into the lane, back to Dalanore's house, whinnying all the way.

An hour later Dalanore was sitting on Orfûna once again in the slave market with 250 crowns weighing down his pocket. He had a constant link with young woman, to make sure she wasn't taken anywhere.

Half an hour later she was dragged on stage, a sorry sight in the sunlight. The slavers, two of them, marched up to her ripped off her rags, leaving her stark naked to the crowd. Forced to show her body to the crowd.

The auctioneer cried out. "A slight girl from the southern areas of Alagaësia, a nice body, if a bit smelly. Might be good in bed," (The male half of the crowd sniggered until most were elbowed in the side by there wives.) "or for light labour or other activities, its only limited by your imagination ladies and gentleman."

"Starting at… 50 crowns."

Dalanore raised his hand to the crowd.

"To the young gentleman on the horse then, 100 crowns anyone?" An old wrinkly man with a covering of silver hair raised his hand, showing a sweaty palm to the auctioneer.

"100 crowns, 150?" Dalanore raised his hand

"200, 250?" a murmur went through the crowd, so much for such a pathetic slave. The old person seemed to think about it, and then slowly started to raise his hand.

Fearing that he might be out bid he invaded the old man's mind. Thoughts flooded into his own, despicable thoughts of what the man would do with the girl made Dalanore grimace but he tightened his grip on the mans hand. The old guy fought Dalanore for control, but the dragon spirit intervened. Power fortified his grip and the old mans hand plummeted to his side.

"250 anyone? 200 crowns in 3…2…1… sold." The hammer fell and Dalanore went to collect his property.


End file.
